Touch

It was late in the cloudy night, the sound of twisted, gnarled branches scratching on the dusty, cracked bedroom window heard as the wind blew through the old tree, its leaves long gone and leaving its branches bare. A worn, single bed sat in the middle of the small room that was lit only by a small lamp on the bedside table. The mattress was old, stained yellow-gray and springs poking out. The sheets were thin and full of holes, and barely big enough to cover a person, and no pillows for one to rest their head upon. The walls were thin and barely kept any heat in, the room cold enough that I could see my breath every time I exhaled.

The cabin was old and had been abandoned for a long time, but it was the only place around where I could finally rest and catch my breath. I took my time to relax, leaning against the wall as I recovered before I decided to explore where I had come to. After casting my eyes over the room, I had found myself in, I found another room to my left, though it lacked a door. After I had caught my breath, I slowly stepped towards it, the floor creaking underneath with every footstep, echoing throughout the room. As I stepped across the threshold, I found myself in a bathroom, a bathtub to my right and the sink to my left, and a rusty toilet at the far end of the room.

I dared not lift the lid.

The bathtub too was dirty, though I was less concerned about that. Instead, I turned towards the sink, and looked into the shattered mirror. My face was splintered across the cracks, but it still clearly showed the blood splashed across my white shirt. I looked down at my blood-splattered clothes, and realised that blood had been dripping from my hands, creating a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom. I pulled off my shirt and wiped my hands with it. Thankfully, my pants were black, so the bloodstains could not be seen on them.

I turned back to the bedroom. My body was exhausted, and I looked at the bed with disdain on my face. But what choice did I have? I had run for miles, and I needed to rest. I stumbled to the bed and fell heavily onto it, laying on my stomach, deciding to get some rest before dealing with the situation I was in. My arm hung over the side of the bed and my eyelids began to feel heavy, and I was out within minutes of closing them.

I wasn’t sure how long I had slept for when I began to hear the sound of the floor creaking. In my half-sleep state, I decided that it was just the sound of the cabin settling into itself, and tried to go back to sleep. However, my eyes opened once again when something that felt like a cold yet moist breath brush the fingers of my hand that hung over the bed.

I sat up in bed and yawned, then inspected my fingers, trying to work out what I had felt. I brought my fingers to my face and breathed out against them, trying to recreate the feeling. I shook my head, telling myself I was being silly and it was just my imagination, but a nagging feeling in the back of my head told me to look under the bed, just in case.

I leaned over the edge of the bed and peeked underneath, but there was nothing there. I sit back up on the bed and sigh with relief, but in the corner of my eye I see something moving. It’s moving slowly, but still moving. I slowly turn my head to end of the bed, where a greyed and rotted finger is reaching up over the end of the mattress. As the hand itself climbed atop the mattress, I could see it’s twisted and broken fingernails clawed into the bed, the crude cut at the wrist, and bone peeking through where the rotting flesh was falling off.

Before I barely had time to react, it jumped at me. However, in a flash, I threw the blanket out at it, and threw it down on the bed. I didn’t even think as I grabbed the lamp off the bedside table, only knowing that I wasn’t running anymore. I was tired of it following me, and I was going to destroy it once and for all. I smashed the lamp down on it repeatedly, bones cracking under the force I hit it with the lamp.

When I came out of my crazed state, it took me a good few moments to realise that I had been dreaming, and instead, I had been smashing my own hand. I lifted my mangled hand in front of my face, the pain only just setting in. I scream in pain, the panic rising inside of me. I look around the room frantically for something to fix up my hand with, but as the floor creaked again, I knew I had to get out of here. I can’t stay, I’ve gotta leave, I’ve gotta get out of here-

I scrambled to the door and threw it open, but on the other side, a hand just like in my dream lay on the floor. I stood frozen, wondering if it had been there when I arrived and simply missed it. However, when it lifted it’s rotten index finger, I gasped in fear, and stepped away. But before I had a chance to run, I felt something raining from the ceiling above me, and I frantically tried to shake them off. I managed to throw one off my back, and the sight of the gnarled and decomposed hand made me scream.

I felt them crawling all over me. And no matter what I did, no matter how desperately I tried to wake myself up, I couldn’t. It never occurred to me that this was reality.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***